


Invitation

by BubbaKnowlton



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Blood & Injury, F/M, Pre-Relationship, mila's a pretty unreliable narrator, whether this is love or manipulation is for You The Readers to decide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbaKnowlton/pseuds/BubbaKnowlton
Summary: Mila Garak knows there has only physically been two of Enabran Tain, the cruel heir and the Obsidian Order agent who replaced him, but she has met three.She isn't sure whether or not Enabran is just Agent Tain trying to manipulate her, though.





	Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH SO im working on an outline for a longer fic about my version of Enabran Tain's backstory and decided that because. it's gonna take me forever, i wanted to write something with Mila. i've been writing this when i'm exhausted so hopefully it's okay and makes a bit of sense lmao

**Invitation**

As Mila pulls a weed from the little garden she’s started behind her employer's mansion, she finds it hard to keep her mind from wandering. From thinking about how her life is so different now.

She forces herself to use the word different because if she uses another word she fears she may start crying. And if that happens, someone would undoubtedly see her, and her employer would take her aside and ask her if she was alright in a way that would sound kind but could drag any answer out of her that he wanted. She likes working for him and vastly prefers this life, this job to her old one. Crying will just make things difficult.

Master Tain had been cruel and treated her as if she was nothing if he noticed that she existed at all. She’d been on the receiving end of his wrath quite frequently and had been left with bruises more than she cared to admit.

Agent Tain is cruel, but never to her. To her, he’s careful and kind, respectful. He goes out of his way to spend time with her and never raises a hand to her. When he looks at her, he doesn’t look through her, and she’s glad to be acknowledged.

She knows he’s only so kind because she knows who he really is. Who he isn’t, rather. But she likes to think it’s also because they’re friends. Or, at least, are becoming friends.

But when she looks at him when he’s working, she’s reminded of how they met, and she can’t stop her hands from trembling just a bit. Before meeting Agent Tain, she’d only ever seen people die from old age or illness. She’d never seen people be murdered. She’d never seen people be or had been interrogated, never had to learn how to use a weapon-

“Miss Garak.”

When she stands and turns, Enabran is behind her. At first, his ability to sneak up on her, to appear out of nowhere, had scared her. Now, it still frightens her, but she doesn’t worry he will hurt her. He’s had so many opportunities to get rid of her, to eliminate the last person besides his superiors that knew his secret, but he’s never taken them. She is alive and unharmed, save for a scratch on her palm from a tool she’d grabbed the wrong end of while gardening.

Before she can greet him, she sees the wound cutting across his abdomen. It’s as if someone had slashed him with a sharp knife. One hand presses tightly against the large wound, like he’s keeping himself from spilling open, though it does nothing to stop the flow of blood. A smaller puncture wound by his clavicle bleeds profusely. She forces herself to get over her shock after looking at each injury and takes his free arm around her shoulders. He leans against her and she helps him inside.

It’s not the first time he’s come to her with injuries, and she can never tell if he is in pain. Enabran is silent as they walk to the master bedroom, and his breathing is steady. It’s not typical for an Obsidian Order agent to appear immune to any injury, from what she’s overheard and seen.

She’s not entirely sure she knows why that is. Mila suspects he’s not a normal agent, that these assassination and interrogation attempts come so frequently because he is proof of something his superiors would very much like to erase.

He sits on the edge of his bed and she washes the dirt from her hands and retrieves the medical kit he has hidden away. It takes a moment for the wall panel to open when she lets it scan her palm, and when she turns around, Enabran is pulling off his bloodied, torn shirt. There are no wounds on his back, and he lies down as she opens up the kit next to him.

Mila doesn’t understand why he trusts her. Still, she dutifully heals him and when the medical scanner picks up an odd substance in his system, she asks, “Have you been poisoned, sir?”

“It’s a truth serum,” he replies, an odd smile on his face. His voice is completely level, as if he hadn’t almost bled to death. “A very strong one.”

“But it doesn’t work on you.”

“Of course it d-doesn’t.” His voice cracks, and he closes his eyes. But he’s too late to hide it when she’s looking directly at him. His pupils dilate. Bizarrely, he begins to laugh. “Why would it work? I’m Cardassian.”

It means something, that. An inside joke that she’s not privy to the context of. But Enabran glances at her, an invitation for her to investigate. He won’t be upset if she finds out what that means- he wants her to, she’s almost sure. The secret she knows could destroy everything he’s worked for, what’s another?

“Miss Garak, are you finished?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. Would you get me a cup of tea?” Master Tain had never thanked anyone. Agent Tain never thanked anyone unless he was manipulating them, and even then, only rarely. Enabran always thanks her. She likes to think it’s genuine. He rubs his eyes as she turns, and sits up.

He has a small tea set in his bedroom, a little burner and a few boxes of the different teas he’s collected on his travels. It’s an indulgence of his, and he’ll get a distant look in his eyes for a moment when she hands the cup to him.

She’s thrilled and worried about noticing and knowing these little details about him. It’s an exposure of that part of him from before.

A weakness he would cease if she dared to point it out.

“Make a cup for yourself,” he adds.

“Yes, sir.”

She picks an herbal blend with a pleasant taste she knows will help with his recovery and help relax her nerves. Blood still isn’t something she’s very used to, especially not large quantities of it. Perhaps in a few years, it won’t faze her.

A few years. She’ll be lucky if he lets her live that long, and she’s not sure what she’s feeling when she realizes she only ever thinks about her future being here, serving him.

By the time the tea is done, he’s changed into fresh clothing, a garish orange turtleneck covered by a drab green shirt, with black pants that don’t match the rest of the outfit at all. Fashion is not something he’s good at, but then again, he seems to be good at everything if asked. She’s sure if she requested it, and he was so inclined, he could choose an outfit fitting of his position as heir to the Tain fortune.

As he takes the cup from her and doesn’t even check it for poison, she thinks to herself that he would very likely be inclined to do what she asked. But she won’t. She knows her place.

“Miss Garak, how is your garden?”

“It’s doing quite well. My brother sent me some seeds to try growing, and they’ve finally begun to sprout.”

“Tolan, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” She’d never told him her brother’s name before. “I’m afraid I’ll never quite meet his skill for flowers.”

“I never understood why people enjoy flowers so much.”

“They’re beautiful. People like to look at nice things.” He opens his mouth to say something and hesitates. Perhaps the truth serum is affecting him more than he wants to admit, though she doesn’t know what he could possibly say about flowers that he wouldn’t want anyone to hear. She asks a question that she thinks will be inconsequential, “If there’s anything you would like to see in the garden, I would plant it for you.”

“No. I’m sure whatever you grow will look beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Though perhaps you should grow more edible plants than flowers. It’s been quite some time since I was last able to eat something that I’d picked myself.” That distant look. Then his pupils grow large and he looks down at his tea as he says, “When I was a boy, my caretakers would take me on walks around the estate grounds after I’d finished my studies for the morning. We’d eat from the garden until lunch was ready. It was nice.” They’re as wide as she’s ever seen on anyone as he finishes.

Before she can offer her own story about her and her brother enjoying fruits and vegetables from their father’s garden, he asks her, “Miss Garak, do you know how to play kotra?”

“I’m familiar with the title, not with the rules,” Mila answers, dropping the sir to see what he hopes to gain by teaching a servant a complicated game.

A smile tugs at his lips, and he gets up and pretends not to have noticed. “It’s a game I quite enjoy. I believe you would be a good player.” He retrieves a board from within his desk and brings back to the bed. “I was taught how to play when I was young.”

She expects to find a knife at her throat in an hour, then. “I don’t expect you to play any way but your best, sir, despite my inexperience.”

“Kotra is a game about bold tactical strategy…”

Sure enough, after having quickly lost two games against him and arguing with him after she realized he was allowing her to win their third match, a disruptor is pressed against her throat, her wrists held tight in his other hand. She hadn’t even seen him grab it.

“I think I need to get back to work, Miss Garak,” he tells her, voice cold.

Enough was enough. He couldn’t risk appearing close to her so soon after an incident. Quietly, she agrees, but he doesn’t let her go.

“You understand, don’t you, Mila?” It was too dangerous for them to be friends. To be whatever they were. Mila wonders which one of them he’s afraid for.

After all, why should he care if something happens to her? Attachment was a weakness. He’d said so himself to another agent, and for once, she was absolutely certain he had been honest. “Yes, sir.”

It’s even more likely that he’s not worried at all, that all this is a game to keep her quiet. Still, she enjoyed their time together and will look forward to the next, if it comes.

Agent Tain releases her, lowering the disruptor.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow/talk to me on Tumblr: @Oblio-k


End file.
